Ginny's Ball
by sheshe330
Summary: The Yule Ball from Ginny's POV in her third year.


"Ginny," Hermione began, "I don't know if this is the best idea." I turned around, heart sinking. "Of _course_ it's a great idea!" I replied, shaking my head. Lavender and Pavarti were giggling in the bathroom, and the sound made me feel even worse. "Listen, don't worry about Ron. It's _his_ problem, isn't it? He had his chance! And now you just need to enjoy yourself without worrying about his reaction!"

There was an excited air about the dormitories that evening, and I couldn't wait to get wrapped up in it. The Yule Ball wasn't an annual occurrence, and quite frankly it was a nice chance to see everyone in a different light. Heck, even Neville was bound to look nice today.

"Yes, but he's so sensitive about Viktor…you know how he sees him as Harry's competition," Hermione continued, smoothing a wisp of hair into her knot. She looked really pretty, and I was determined to not let her waste it on my stupid brother's problems. "You are officially being taken captive," I announced, grabbing her around the waist. "Viktor will be _so_ disappointed if you don't come, and you'll be leaving him in an awful bind. Champions _have_ to bring dates, you know."

Hermione took one last solemn look in the mirror, and then squared her shoulders. "You're right. Plus, it's not like Padma is any kind of competition to me. Even if she _is_ in Ravenclaw, I'm still smarter than her." I glanced in the bathroom to see if Pavarti had heard, but it didn't seem likely. "That's the spirit," I said, trying not to giggle.

By the time we made it down to the common room, mostly everyone was gone: Neville was waiting at the bottom of the stairs in somewhat respectable dress robes and shiny dancing shoes. "C'mon, Hermione," I said, grateful to have a buffer between Neville and I, at least for the time being. Neville slid a really beautiful corsage onto my wrist that he had obviously charmed. The lilies of the valley were unnaturally vibrant and even emitted a fragrant mist every few minutes. I thanked him kindly and he blushed in a way that any Weasley would be proud of.

"You guys go on," Hermione told us at the top of the marble stairs a few minutes later. "I need a moment." I shot her a look, hoping she wasn't about to run off and shut herself in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, but she smiled feebly at me and I sighed with relief. I saw Harry, of course, but he was preoccupied with watching Cho with Cedric. I sighed again. Some things never change, do they?

"Are you okay?" Neville asked me, and I nodded and smiled. It wasn't _his_ fault that he wasn't Harry, was it? I spied Malfoy in odd-looking black robes and couldn't help but snicker when I saw that he was with Pansy Parkinson. "They suit each other, don't they?" I asked Neville. "Hermione and Viktor? I suppose so…I don't really know him, though…"

I just shook my head and stopped myself from groaning. Truth be told, _nobody _would exactly deem Neville the best date to a school dance, and I was definitely part of that majority. Though I'd never tell him, the only reason I agreed to go was because I was too young to go anyway. There had been a moment when I _could_ have gone with Harry, but it would just be unfair to tell Neville that I was ditching him for Harry…especially when Harry was only in need of a date because Cho had rejected him.

Ron's eyes were bugging out at the sight of Hermione, and I felt a deep satisfaction. Hermione was a strong, beautiful, powerful girl: she didn't need my dopey brother to hinder her. He really needed a kick in the arse—hopefully, that night would be enough, but it probably wouldn't.

Ron wasn't the only one completely surprised by Hermione's date for the evening. Sure, she was a little bookish and didn't put nearly as much effort as she should into her hair every day, but she wasn't _ugly_, and she was certainly a better person than all of Viktor's little fan girls that followed him around everywhere.

Everyone started filing into the Great Hall, and Neville and I followed the crowd, leaving the champions behind in the Entrance Hall. The decorations were beautiful, and I couldn't help but gasp as I noted all the touches that had been added to the Great Hall. "Is that Percy?" Neville asked, pointing towards the top table where the champions and their dates were being seated. I looked and saw my brother in Mr. Crouch's spot. "I guess it is," I said, vaguely recalling some sort of pompous letter he'd sent me about being promoted to Mr. Crouch's personal assistant. Harry sat next to him reluctantly and he immediately began to speak—obviously explaining his important new position.

Firmly deciding not to focus on Harry for the remainder of the evening, I turned towards Neville. "This is a nice change, isn't it? I wouldn't mind having another ball next year." He looked impatient for some reason. "I guess so," he replied, tucking into his goulash with unsurprising yet still unnerving gusto. I looked at the other people sitting at our table and was disappointed to not recognize anybody from my year. For a moment, I wished I was in Gryffindor Tower with my third-year friends playing Exploding Snap and betting on Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans in the common room.

I was just getting used to silently eating my delicious dinner while looking at everybody else's dress robes when the lanterns in the middle of the tables dimmed. My stomach plummeted as I realized what was coming—_dancing_. Sure, Mum had taught me a long time ago, but my primary dancing partner was Ron, and he had two left feet and was a weak lead. Neville's face was shining with excitement as the Weird Sisters took the stage and the champions and their dates took the floor.

Cedric and Cho were laughing as they got set, and Roger Davies was holding Fleur a bit tighter than what would be considered modest. I told myself not to look at Harry and Parvati and focused instead on Hermione and Viktor. Hermione was blushing delicately as he whispered something in her ear.

As soon as they started dancing, Neville stuck out his hand with a feverish look in his eye and said, "Do you want to--?" Slightly alarmed but nonetheless flattered, I nodded and allowed him to lead me out to the brightly lit dance floor.

Within the first steps I knew that it would be a disaster. He continually stepped on my feet and didn't realize—I tried my hardest not to wince but couldn't help it one the particularly painful ones. I glanced over at Harry and Parvati, and realized with dismay that he was at least a better dancer than Neville. _That could have been you_, my evil subconscious told me. _You could have danced with Harry!_ I shook my head to rid myself of those mean thoughts and smiled at Neville. He didn't see, though, because he was preoccupied with counting steps.

After the first song, I was about to tell him that I was suddenly very ill when he seized me and started dancing a mix of a tango and fox-trot. My feet were throbbing, but I couldn't end the torture tactfully and decided to endure it for a little while longer.

Of course, though, we were the last couple on the dance floor besides two Hufflepuffs who were clinging to each other for dear life and kissing sloppily every few beats. "I-I'm rather tired," I told Neville suddenly, anxious to leave before we were _the_ last ones. "Oh—oh, right," he said sorrowfully. We walked off the dance floor to hear Snape blasting rosebushes apart outside and people squealing and running off.

"I'll see you around, Neville," I told him, hoping he wouldn't walk with me all the way up to the seventh floor. I was also hoping he wouldn't be expecting a good-night kiss. "Right," he said awkwardly, and I promptly turned on my heel and left him there by an ice sculpture.

I was just about to walk up the stairs when I heard somebody say, "Probably not a great idea right about now. I was walking in and heard this couple having a huge row." I turned and saw a boy in Ron's year standing behind me in dress robes. I laughed, stalling as I tried to remember his name…David? Keith? Joseph?

"I'm Michael Corner," he said before I could embarrass myself. _Keith? Really?_ I thought, the tips of my ears turning pink. "Right," I said, trying hard not to blush. We started up the stairs together, and I felt my face getting redder and redder with each step. "You're a third-year, right?" he asked, eyebrows arched. "Ye-es," I replied, hoping he didn't think I was immature because I was younger than he was. "Let me know if you ever need help with homework, then," he said, grinning. "Last year was pretty tough." We were at the top of the stairs: he would be turning any moment to go to Ravenclaw Tower at the opposite end of the castle.

"Thanks," I said, my awkwardness fading away already. "I bet Snape won't even know what hit him!" He laughed and smiled before saying good night and walking away, hands in his pockets. As I started up the next flight of stairs, Harry Potter was hardly a blip on my radar.


End file.
